


if you hold me without hurting me (you'll be the first who ever did)

by brideshead_regurgitated



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29862174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brideshead_regurgitated/pseuds/brideshead_regurgitated
Summary: "Move." Castiel coughs. "I need to get two mugs for the coffee, Dean.""Make me."
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 37





	if you hold me without hurting me (you'll be the first who ever did)

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.

When they meet again, Dean is standing in front of Kelly's house, waiting for him, as some Lana Del Rey song blasts from the radio. It's pouring and the Dean is but a dark silhouette, holding an umbrella, undistinguishable features metres away. An unexpected visit, that makes him wonder even for just a moment how long Dean has been standing there and how long would he have stood there had Castiel not arrived at that moment. With no cafes or shops nearby, it seems implausible that he's been there for long after having run the doorbell without receiving no response from the intercom. Part of him, selfishly, wishes for some time to have passed just so to diminish some of the inanities, he must have wanted to meet rather than having accidentally been around and decided on a whim to meet again. They haven't seen each other in months, one too many rows that finally made him decide to leave and do something else, save what little was left of his and Dean's relationship. They parted as friends and it's fine, he thinks, were it not that the months apart didn't change any of his feelings - they're still there, lingering, at the back of his mind. There when he plays with Jack, when he's at work, when he talks with Kelly, even when he occasionally speaks with Dean over the phone. And yet to go away with Kelly, a helping hand after Jack was born, living in a godforsaken place in the middle of nowhere. Dean's Impala is nowhere to be seen. He stops the blue car and raises his hand, the man in front of him blurry in a watery world, the windshield studded with drops and the water coming down in buckets, the noise filling the air. Castiel grabs for his yellow umbrella and opens the door, stepping outside, trying to avoid the muddy puddle at his feet.

"Dean," he says.

"Cas." Dean's voice is flat and matter-of-factly but trembles at the last letter as if he's undecided and considers adding the suffix though that might be his own wishful thinking and Dean merely doesn't trust himself to add anything else. He thinks of the last time they saw each other, voices cracking and raising, feelings rolling and rapid, looking at each other in anger and heartbreak, hardly able to reach for the larger thoughts and make peace, settle down, say whatever they really wanted to say. On the tip of his tongue, even now, but there's residual anger and the flashing awareness that perhaps, maybe, probably, leaving has been the right decision, that life with Dean at the bunker has hardly been life at all. Another memory too, vivid and neat, following Kelly out of that motel room and Dean not saying his name.

"I just came back with the shopping," he yells. "I'll be with you in a minute."

"Let me help you," says Dean, stepping down the steps.

"No need for the two of us to get wet."

"I insist," Dean cuts him off astonishingly and smirks. "It's the least I could do."

Castiel nods half-heartedly and opens the trunk, taking out one of the shopping bags and handing it to Dean. Their fingers brush, lingering longer than necessary and curling, warm and callous at the touch. He doesn't dare look at Dean, suddenly too aware of how close they're standing and, at such a distance, it's hardly impossible to swallow back his feelings - they are there, always, fuelled by the awareness of all the unresolved things around them that makes him wonder whether to just speak them is better than carrying the torch for Dean even now, years on. Things are already precarious ever since he left with Kelly, driving away from that motel room, the silence between them occasionally broken by Jack's mother asking,  _ what's the deal between you. _

He wants to say,  _ sometimes I wish I hadn't left. _ But doesn't speak.

"I made you a pie," he says, lifting a shopping bag. "Inside the bag on the porch."

"Peace offerings?"

"Didn't know we were at war."

"No, I suppose you are right."

"So," says Dean, retrieving his hands, the leaves of the celery move and fall down straight against the bag with the groceries. "Are we gonna go inside or-"

"No, of course. I mean, yes. We are going inside."

With one loud thud, the trunk closes itself and Castiel takes out his set of house keys from the pocket of his trench coat, dangling in his hands as he makes his way to the door, one foot after the other, droplets of mud end up on the cuffs of his jeans as well as his shoes. The door opens, creaking slightly and they both wipe their feet on the carpet before taking off their shows, carelessly placing them in the corner next to each other.

"So this is where you live now," says Dean as he looks around. "With Kelly and Jack."

Castiel looks at him, mouth half-open, trying to find something to say.

"I'm glad that you're living with them," adds Dean. "If you aren't with us then... Certainly an upgrade from last time you found yourself human."

"And whose fault is that."

"Don't," Dean cuts him off. "Please. And you are happy, Cas? With Jack and Kelly?"

"I am, Dean. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You barely know them."

"Now that's not true. I know them well."

"No. Not from the beginning and you still chose her and Jack."

"You're just angry because she managed to steal your car without you even noticing that she had taken your keys from you."

"That's not true." Dean pauses. "Doesn't change anything, you didn't know her. You didn't owe her anything or nothing much at all and yet you just left like that without looking back."

"I'd never abandoned her, Dean, she was pregnant with Lucifer's child and I was an angel losing his grace. I could help and Jack... I like being a father, I like being  _ his _ father. I was losing everything, I was losing you... You were angry after the mark of Cain despite it being gone, I didn't know... Never mind. What happened to Kelly is terrible, we can all agree that something good came out of it. And I liked it, taking doula classes online." He laughs. "Not much help given that Jack's a Nephilim. It's our fault this happened because we didn't manage to stop Lucifer. It was atonement at first, but something changed. Jack, Kelly... They're my family and there's strength in that. I wasn't doing well, we argued about everything... I'm slowly rediscovering everything, who I am, what I want."

Dean cracks a smile and says, "Still, you've known us longer. You've known  _ me _ the longest."

He laughs tentatively at the hint of jealousy in Dean's voice and the pout he puts on offended. He laughs warmly with Dean rather than at Dean and it feels good, well, perfect, like it should be, like he imagined it would be: being somewhere else, away from the bunker, closer to the most common definition of normal. He dreamt about sometimes, wondering what it would feel like to stand there, close to Dean, older and human, his heart beating fast in his chest and blood rushing through his veins. Impossible at such times to forget the past, the awe he used to feel, the surprise of it all, and the disgusting enormity of his desire.

"Good to see you, buddy."

"You too."

"If you are happy... That's what matters, I guess." He pauses. "Where are they anyway? Kelly and Jack."

"Out."

"That much I figured."

"Does it matter?"

"You tell me."

"Can you not-"

Dean looks at him, questioningly. "You're being a terrible host, now I've got no idea, but this doesn't seem the way to treat your... friend."

"I'm sorry."

"Why? I mean, don't be. I  _ am  _ your friend, ain't I?"

"Yes, Dean, you are my friend," he replies, exasperation clear. Dean grins at him in response and follows him inside.

"We have coffee and tea. Juice. No beer, I'm afraid."

"I don't drink. Not anymore. Two months dry." He sits down. "Coffee. Black. Thank you. I wouldn't say no to that."

"They're bound to be back any moment, lunch at Kelly's parents', we were supposed to go to the park in the afternoon but the weather- Another time, you could come. If you'd like to. Jack'd be happy, he likes you."

"Alright."

It's the first time they see each other not in neutral territory, up close and personal. The most surprising thing is that Dean fits in, as if he belongs there, something that leaves Cas completely flabbergasted. Leaning against the kitchen counter, the window behind him looking onto the lake, his hair longer than it ever used to be, falling on his forehead: he looks softer, no longer all edges and corners, not at all. Kinder. At peace with himself and the world. The Dean he likes, the Dean he loves, the Dean he knows and always knew from the very first moment.

"What?" asks Dean.

"Move." Castiel coughs. "I need to get two mugs for the coffee, Dean."

"Make me."

He stares at him, unsure about what to do. It is such a Dean thing to say, wink and grin included, but without having ever properly discussed anything and without ever having been openly honest about his feelings, he's afraid he'll make Dean uncomfortable or move too quickly, words as slippery as gestures, easily misinterpreted.

"Don't overthink it, Cas. You've missed the mark. There-" he says, stepping to the side. "Which one is it?"

"Second drawer." 

"I was joking," explains Dean as he looks at the cups and picks out two. One has a bee print on it and the other some dogs. It could be any morning or afternoon, their hands touch on the counter and Dean doesn't remove his fingers - fingertips touching as they stand side by side, the coffee machine gurgling loudly. He doesn't dare look at Dean, his cheeks flushed but feels Dean's stare on him, really looking. Intensively and on purpose, not even the hint of a stolen glance. Dean always thought himself to be extremely subtle, failing miserably most of the time though leaving enough space for vague doubts - actions and words colliding and contradicting each other on and on, the entire world and everyone's problems wriggling in and standing in the way. He turns around, ready to say something, as the rain whispers against the window panes. The surface of the lake is rippled and mist is slowly rising from its surface, the entire world out of focus and blurred, a watery and romantic scenery of nature at its most powerful.

"You know that much, I hope," adds Dean without looking away, properly taking his hand now. Dean's palm is slightly sweated and warm, he doesn't dare look at it, holding his gaze, as if, perhaps, he were too afraid of complicating things somehow.

"Yes, I do know. We've known each other for years. I am familiar with your sense of humour."

"Still can't use air quotes, I see. I think it's time someone taught you."

"Let me guess, that someone's you."

"Hell yeah," he pauses. "Do you mind?"

"I'm perfectly capable of using air quotes correctly."

"So you're just doing it to keep me around? I'm terribly flattered."

"Would you mind... If I asked you to?"

"You're the one that left."

"Dean-" he cuts him off, ready to explain himself.

"No. No, Cas, let me finish. I used to be angry about you leaving, walking out with Kelly to help her raise a child that isn't even yours. Hell, it's Lucifer's which speaks for itself. You did the right thing and I was angry because I like to be in control, have everything packed and everyone in their place."

"Dean, you suggested we kill Jack."

"And I was wrong. Is that what you want me to say? I was wrong."

"The world isn't ending." Castiel smiles. "You've said it out loud and the world isn't ending."

"'m not saying it again."

"I don't care... heard you the first time. Dean-"

"Coffee. I think it's ready." Dean clutches his fists and stands upright, looking away. "Whatever you're thinking... I'm not here to see Kelly and Jack, it's not that I don't care but... I'm here to see you. I thought I'd get it out of the way."

Carefully, Castiel pours the coffee into the two cups. Some drops spill on the Formica counter and he wipes them away, grabbing for the towel next to the kitchen sink. He looks at Dean sideways, still standing there, too close - thoughts and feelings rolling and rapid, heart pounding in his chest even now ten years on. He's different now, human, more fragile and subjected to the outbursts of seasons -colds and aching bones, sometimes exhaustion wears him down and he has yet to figure it all out.

"There are plates in that cupboard," he says, pointing at it, needing Dean to step away if only for a second. "For the pie-"

"It also makes great breakfast food. You and Kelly should try."

"I'd rather eat it now with you instead of waiting for Sunday."

"What happens on Sunday?"

"Nothing. Sunday's the day we take things slowly. Special breakfast."

"Special breakfast huh? I'd like to be there one day."

"You could." He pauses and gulps. "Whenever you want, You just have to say."

"Kelly won't mind?"

"No. I don't think so."

"Not the same thing."

"What are you afraid of?"

"Jack won't mind. He likes you."

"But Kelly? Ain't exactly-"

"She's different now. Different... everything. We talk... I told her about... You."

"To justify what I said about her son?"

"No. Just about you, us, I  _ know  _ you, Dean. She knows that you wouldn't hurt Jack. I mean, he's the son of Lucifer and you did say that he brainwashed me while in the womb, but I do think that you must have changed your mind at some point. Jack likes you."

"He's a good kid and a baby so I'm not sure how much that matters."

"Very, in this household." Cas smiles fondly. "Unless it's about using his Nephilim powers inside the house."

"Are you going to say I told you so?"

"Would that make you feel better?"

"No." Dean pauses and moves away, a couple of large steps and unrealistically Cas thinks about following and be close to him again. Now that they're both there, he wonders how he managed to be on his own for all this time, realizing how much of a solid presence Dean is at his side. Like any enamorada, perhaps, it feels as if he's himself more fully when they are in each other's company.

"There, plates. Anyway, how does all of this work?"

"What?"

"Living with Kelly."

"Upstairs is my place and we share the kitchen and living room. There are two bathrooms."

"Do you pay rent?"

"No, the house is hers. We split the bills and I look after Jack every now and then when's busy working. Trying to become the next mayor. What?"

"Kelly Kline? The Republican?"

"She's different now."

Dean raises an eyebrow, questioningly.

"You don't believe me."

"It's Kelly, Cas. She didn't use to think that people like-"

"Like who?"

"Some people deserved no rights at all."

"That's not true, not now anyway. Whatever she thought in the past doesn't matter. You were raised to kill monsters and had to discover that they weren't bad-"

"Not the same thing."

"Are you sure, Dean? Are you really sure?" He laughs. "Can't believe this is happening. Defending her from you and defending you from her. It feels like talking with Meg"

"You defended me? When?"

"When I left. It's complicated. You don't know her," he says defensively. "You really don't, Dean."

"Alright, calm down. All I'm saying is that she was government and all."

"I'm not listening to you. Kelly is kind and she is  _ my  _ friend." He pauses. "People grow, Dean. They change.

Deans cuts him off, "Don't start crying, Cas."

He pouts and stares at him. "Are you here to criticize my life?"

"No."

"Because it's a good one."

"I'm not."

"I work at the store, it's mostly tourists who shop there, there's a B&B north from here. Five minutes by car. An odd destination for a honeymoon, but you know... I like being a father. Why do you care?"

"Just curious, want to know about your life. Want to know if potentially-"

"What?"

"Nothing. I want, need to know that you're happy, Cas. And I don't want to intrude. You know," says Dean. "When you left the bunker to go and find Kelly I thought I should go with you. All my life, Sam... He's all grown up now and doesn't really need me. There's a suitcase already packed back at the bunker."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I thought you should know. It ain't Sam's. The suitcase. It's mine."

"Leaving?"

"That's the plan, yeah."

Castiel stares at him, eyes wide open and panicking. He's not too sure what he wants and there's something appealing about knowing that  _ somehow _ they always come back to each other, he'd have thought walking away to be final, the straw that broke the camel's back. Slowly, it starts to make sense, pieces coming together or at least he thinks they are, unless they are distorted by his own want and need. 

"Where to?"

"When you left you said some things, a lot of things, some more important than others. Did you mean it?"

"It's not of any import."

"You said you loved me." He pauses. "Did you mean it?"

"You know I did, Dean."

Dean gulps and momentarily looks away, a strain of hair falls in front of his eyes and tentatively, unable to resist the impulse to brush it aside, Cas stretches out his hands, his fingers gently touching the freckled skin on Dean's face - his cheek, temple, and up to his forehead, tracing lines and connecting freckles as if they were constellations. One swift movement, then, dark blond hair pushed back and his hand away, tingling skin as opens and closes his fist.

Cas smiles softly, fondly. "There."

"I know what I want, Cas. I'm forty-two and I like to think that I've known for a while. Shite at expressing it, maybe, but I do know."

"I know." He pauses, gulping. "All these years, all the prayers... Some of them were rather-"

Dean laughs loudly, cheeks flushed. "This is embarrassing."

"I know what you want Dean or I can figure it out, connect the dots, there's no need to say it out loud."

"No, but I do want to say it out loud, Cas. I've been meaning to for a while. I thought I'd come here and just say it. Actually, I thought about texting you first and then showing up or meeting to discuss it, felt impersonal. We've been through a lot you and I, it simply didn't sit right with me."

"So you're here now."

Dean nods. "I also wanted to see Jack again. Still up to his usual nonsense?"

"Levitating his stuffed animals? Yes. He also tried to move a package of Crusty Crunch across the kitchen, spilt them all on the floor." Castiel laughs. "Hard to stay angry at him. What?"

"It suits you, all of this. It's a good life, isn't it?"

Castiel nods and takes Dean's hand in his. "It is. We should probably-"

Move to the kitchen table, sit down, chairs screeching against the tiled floor, eat the pie Dean brought and sip their coffee as the rain keeps on falling, as they wait for Jack and Kelly to come back. He should also put away the groceries, though such a simple task may wait one moment longer so as not to disrupt the nature of the moment, to let time move on linearly and effortlessly, ticked away by the clock on the wall, leaden circles travelling through the air. A remote possibility, a thought at the back of his mind, completely ignored.

"I'd like to be part of it," explains Dean calmly, stumbling over his own words - one syllable tripping over the one that follows, voice oozing hope and amazement in equal measure. "I want you, Cas. I want you. This."

Dean steps forward, their bodies close and their breaths mixing - hot on his skin, Dean's eyes greener than he remembers them to be.

"And I hope it's not too late to say it."

"It isn't," Castiel whispers. 

He used to be surprised at the disgusting enormity of his desire when he wasn't supposed to feel anything at all least of all love. Now, after all these years, feelings are familiar and well-known, he can put a name to it all and point at it, making them fully his. Not wrong, human, something that isn't there to be legislated, the crowdedness of blood no longer turning it hateful, and any authority useless over the tide of blood. 

"It would never be too late."

"Good. Cas?"

"What?"

"I guess I always thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way that I live – bloodily, not necessarily in a blaze of glory, and that would be it. But now that everything's changed, things have long settled down, I think... I want to experience life differently than I have before, for the first time. With you. I want to wake up next to you in the morning, hear about your day in the evening and just... spend time with you, quietly, in comfortable silence. Hear you laugh at my stupid jokes.” He pauses and exhales sharply, his grip on Cas’ hand getting tighter. “I’ve been stupid, Cas. I should have said something when you left, I just let you go. Easy way out of the problem. I know we haven’t been strangers, but whatever that was… It’s not enough. It wasn’t enough and I want to… I need to apologize to you, to Kelly, and I just didn’t. I couldn’t. What I said about Jack, I can’t change it, I can’t go back and unsay it and I knew that you’d have it under control, that no one’s born evil. I didn’t… You were right and I was wrong, Cas, and I’m sorry. But I don’t want to go back to how it was after what you said, after everything that happened.”

“Dean.”

“I need you.” Dean pauses and looks at him with tears in his eyes. They roll down his cheeks, silently, dropping onto his jumper. Then, with his voice trembling, the words meaningful and significant, spoken out loud for the first time and constricted by the realness of their articulation rather than the infinite vastness of thoughts and longing, he says, “I love you.”

People hardly get what they serve, but he now realizes that although his life is all but perfect and will never be idyllic, it’s in his power to create something fulfilling or as fulfilling as possible. A family with Jack and Kelly, a lifetime with Dean, friendship with Meg and Sam and Eileen and everyone else and his nice little job at the shop that brings him satisfaction - another way of helping people, even if it’s merely about bringing them a package of toilet paper from the back of the shop if the shelves are empty. And the little things too, shaping his existence: bees in the summer, playing with Jack or fixing the flowerbeds. It’s happiness, tangible and at hands reach.

Tenderly, he stretches his hand out and places it on Dean’s cheek, wiping the tears away with his thumb, Dean’s beard ticklish against the soft flesh of his palm. Dean turns his head around, leaning into the touch little by little until his lips are on Castiel’s skin. It’s an electrifying touch that leaves his skin tingling.

“And I you,” he whispers. “But you knew that.”

“Yeah.” Dean laughs. “I know. What I said about the suitcase-”

“You can stay, Dean, if you want to. Of course you can stay. I told you, Kelly knows about everything. There, a promise sealed with a kiss," he whispers and leans forwards, slightly tilting his head up until his lips meet Dean’s.

It’s soft. It’s a kiss or the beginning of one, lips on lips, motionless, getting acquainted to the feeling of being so close to the other - something he would have imagined to be more ludicrous. A sense of rightness and the promise of a future: in love, living the best life, and making the most of it after such suffering and heartbreak. The best prize, he wouldn’t have dared imagine it would come true, be a possibility, the two of them in a quiet kitchen, kissing, bodies warm and close. He holds Dean gently, trying not to hurt him, treating him with care, pouring his love and thoughtfulness into it all - hands on his back, the jumper scratchy, pulling him closer, pressing him against the kitchen counter.

“After I fell, I thought, for a year and then two, three, four... I thought that one day you'd meet someone. A girl perhaps. Someone much more interesting anyway. Someone who hadn't committed such atrocities. I thought you’d meet someone and then you'd leave and breakfast would never be the same again. Or dinner. Or any of those evenings we spent together in perfect silence, watching a movie in your room or talking in the library,” he amidst as they part. 

“Cas, I think… I’m here. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, with anyone else.”

“Me neither.”

“Good.” Dean smiles and kisses him again, grinning against his lips, before hugging him, burying his head in the crook of Cas’ neck. He says, “You smell of mint. Faint but it’s there. I don’t want to go, Cas.”

“Good thing you don’t have to then.”

“Yeah.”

“You know, I’d ask you to go upstairs but Kelly’s bound to be back any minute now and I’d rather not- oh, you know.”

“What do I know?” Dean jokes.

“I’d rather not dump the news on her like  _ that _ .” He laughs. “But she won’t mind you being here.”


End file.
